


eveyone knows but us

by groovycoochie



Series: The Wolffe Collection [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Dorks in Love, Friends to Lovers, More tags might be added later - Freeform, Multi, Nudity, Suggestive Themes, Trapped In A Closet, but it's not explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovycoochie/pseuds/groovycoochie
Summary: Oh, to be stuffed in a tight closet for whatever reason with him, no space between you. Hands pressed up against his chest and his knee slipped between yours. Breaths mixed together and his hands trying to keep a respectful distance, but who is he kidding? With his knee pressing you there, you’re practically riding his thigh.And- Oh, to be disheleved and flustered when you’re finally let out-
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader
Series: The Wolffe Collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128905
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. fire drills

You really hate these weekly fire drills. 

They’re tedious, a waste of time, and only for people who don’t know what to do in emergency.

You know what to do. All the officers do. For goodness’ sake, the entire GAR knows what to do for a multitude of emergencies! 

It’s just ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous!

You try to shift your awkward positioning, but end up grounding your hips down on Wolffe’s thigh. Your breath hitches.

Yeah… ridiculous…

It’s the fire drill’s fault you’re stuck in a ridiculously small closet with Wolffe, pushed up against him and desperately trying not to let him feel what being close to him does to you. Though if you’re being honest, it’s really that group of bored shinies’ fault. In an attempt to make things more interesting, they came up with the bright idea to play the part of ‘freaked out civilians’ and very nearly bulldozed over everyone in their path to get to the designated safe spot, somehow pushing you and Wolffe in a small closet in their chaotic run.

Face hot, you attempt to stand on your tip toes, but with how cramped you are, your legs shake to keep yourself up and consequently brushdown on Wolffe again.

“Uh,” you stutter, trying to shift your hips again. “S-sorry, tight space.”

Your hands are awkwardly pressed against his chest, too squished to move them anywhere else. Kark it, why did this happen to you? Why? You’re already a bumbling mess when you’re in the same room as him, but now you’re practically riding his thigh and the door’s jammed and you just wish you could hide away. You gulp and unconsciously squeeze your thighs together, hugging Wolffe’s a little tighter. His face pinches at the movement, but you don’t notice, too distracted by.. him.

“It’s alright,” Wolffe grits out, hands shifting as he tries to place them in a comfortable spot, “lemme try and get the door again.”

There’s more movement and as Wolffe tries to vainly unjam the door, his knee rides up and you can’t help the small moan that escapes.

He freezes.

“Uh.” You cough and look down to his chest. “Sorry. Something in my throat.”

“Right…” Wolffe doesn’t sound convinced and you know he knows why. Your face burns and you try to move again, but because you’re stupid and didn’t learn from before, you can’t do much and grind against his thigh again.

“Wolffe?” And fuck, your voice is breathy.

“Yes, cyar'ika?” The words are clipped and he’s hunched around you, over you, against you, and you want to ask him what that means, but Wolffe stopped trying to open the door and now he’s glaring at you. Dammit, just stop grinding his leg, idiot.

“I-I–”

The door opens and you go tumbling out with Wolffe falling on top of you.

“Gah!”

You fall on your back, Wolffe’s face nestling into the crook of your neck–and ow, did he accidentally bite you as he fell over with you? His hands catch himself so he doesn’t completely crush you, but his knee is still pressing you _there_. Chest heaving, you’re still a little shocked at what just happened and Wolffe seems to be too as he slowly lifts his face from your neck, a tingle radiating from where he _definitely_ bit you on the tumble out.

“Uh, hi?” You whisper, his face so close to yours.

Wolffe blinks slowly, his eyes darting to your neck and just as he opens his mouth, a voice speaks up from above.

“Well, well, while we were following protocol, it looks like the Commander and Colonel were getting up to some mischief, eh Sinker?”

Heart stopping, you and Wolffe slowly look up to see the Pack smiley smugly at you, arms folded. “And the Commander gives us a hard time about protocol all the time.”

Wolffe’s face contorts into irritation and he hurridly gets to his feet, pulling you up with him. “Boost, if you value your life, I would suggest running.” Wolffe’s eyes scan over the rest of the Pack. “And the same goes to you.”

It’s the only warning they get and before you know it, the Pack is running away, giggling, as their commander chases them down, yelling expletives, leaving you flustered and with a tingly neck.

You smile as you watch Wolffe catch Boost the the back of his armor and place a hand on where Wolffe accidentally bit you.

You quite like having the reminder of Wolffe being so close to you.


	2. false alarms

You’re going to kill them.

( _“Colonel, come quick!” Boost rounded the corner, almost bumping into you. “The commander needs help!”_ )

You don’t care if you’d be convicted of murder. You’re going to kill those deceitful little bantha shits for tricking you into a closet with the nearly naked commander you’d been crushing on for some time now.

( _“Wha- Boost, this is just an empty supply close- hey!” You yelped when Boost pushed you in. “Boost, what is this about?!”_

_Still disoriented, you didn’t get a chance to turn around and open the door when you heard some muffled yelling._

_Before you could react, the door opened and something, or rather_ someone _was shoved inside with you, pressing you to the wall._

_“Sinker, I’m gonna kill you!”_

_You breath caught in your throat, knowing that tone of voice._

_“You and the rest of the Pack!”_

_There was only muffled laughter as you two heard the door’s lock click, and right then, you decided the 104th could do without a few meddlesome troopers._ )

Wolffe shifts behind you, his bare chest rubbing against your back, hips slotting against yours so perfectly, you could feel the outline of his co-

“Colonel, can you squeeze around me to get to the door?” His breath warms your ear. “I can’t move with how small this supply closet is.” He thrusts his hips against yours, as if trying to prove his point, apparently unaware at what that movement does to you. “I’ll try to back away so you can move, but it’s gonna be tight.”

Tight, yeah, you think sourly, but try to shimmy yourself around. “Uh, yes, sir.”

Wolffe stiffens a little, but you assume it’s because of how uncomfortable this must be for him too.

“So,” you grunt as you twist your body around, to try and face him. “Why are you almost naked?”

You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. You don’t need to know that, idiot. Stop making this situation more awkward than it already is.

You manage to turn your body around, but you can’t really squeeze around him, so you’re stuck with him pinning you to the wall- and _oh no_ , this is much worse. Now you can actually see his face and chest and his black regulation pants that accentuate his bulge a bit too well-

“Sparring.”

“W-w-w-what?!” Your voice goes up two octaves, eyes snapping up to meet his.

Wolffe raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and _stars_ , you hope he didn’t notice your ogling. “You asked why I was half-naked. I was sparring with Comet when the rest of the Pack ganged up on me and dragged me into here.” He looks you up and down, jaw clenching. “With you.”

You wince at the tension in his voice. This is the technically the third time this has happened. The first being from the fire drill, the second.. your cheeks heat at the memory. No need to think about that disaster of an event.

“Oh, yeah..” you mumble, eyes trailing down his chest. “Uh, sorry you always get stuck in tight places with me.” He sighs, chest heaving and you want nothing more than to run your hands up his pecs, but you restrain yourself and look back into his eyes. “I promise I’m not coordinating these, um, situations.”

Wolffe rolls his eyes but he smirks at you. “I know.” He leans back a little to try and give you space. “Besides, this could be worse. I could be stuck in here with someone who stinks.”

An unexpected laugh bubbles out of your lips, butterflies fluttering. “There’s a silver lining to everything,” you joke and Wolffe’s smirk turns into a smile.

“Yeah, I suppose there is.” He stares back into your eyes, expression unreadable now.

“Commander?” You unconsciously lean foward, chest brushing his.

Wolffe stiffens again and he squeezes his hand around the small space, so he’s holding your shoulder. “Not here,” he grunts. “You don’t have to call me ‘Commander’ here.”

You blink, and cock your head. “Then what should I call you–-sir?”

Wolffe’s hips shift back a little, but you don’t think much of it. “Wolffe,” he growls out. “Wolffe is fine.”

You gulp at his throaty tone and give a small nod. “Okay then. Wolffe.”

He huffs his approval and looks over his shoulder at the door. “I can’t get the door this time.”

You almost get whiplash from the sudden change in energy of the air. What was that all about? “Oh, lemme try.” You step closer, arm slipping between the gap of his arm and torso, feeling for the code panel.

Wolffe is stiff, but it’s probably because he’s getting angsty from being stuck in a closet for some time now. You bite your lip, other hand circling around Wolffe’s torso, so you’re giving him a somewhat hug. Maybe the panel is on the other side.

“Cyar'ika.”

“Just a sec, Wolffe.” You stick your tongue out and chew on it, frustrated. “I can’t find the panel to open the door.”

“Cyar'ika.”

What does that mean?

“Hold on, Wolffe, I’m feeling for the panel.”

“Cyar'ika.”

Humming, distractedly, you look at him, arms still around his waist, pausing in your search. “Yeah, Wolffe?”

His face is pinched and he’s leaning hard agaisnt the door, tense. “You–-”

But he doesn’t get another word out. The door slides open and he stumbles back with you falling with him. You don’t have time to process what’s happening. In one blink you’re leaning against him, curiously wondering what he was going to say, and in another, you’re straddling his hips, his hands resting low on your waist and your eyes way too close to Wolffe’s, staring wide into his.

It doesn’t click that your lips are pressed against his until you hear laughter around you.

“If we had known you two were about to christen the supply closet, we would’ve given you more time together.”

That snaps you out of your surprise and you gasp, stumbling off of Wolffe. “I– you– we–”

The Pack doubles over, laughter echoing around you and they turn to run. “We’ll leave you lovebirds to finish up.”

Your cheeks heat at the term and you open your mouth to correct them, but Wolffe growls as he gets up from the floor and glares at their quickly retreating forms, yelling, “'Finish up.’ I’ll finish you!”

He turns to you, expression softening and drops a hand on your shoulder, squeezing. “And I’ll see you around, cyar'ika?”

You can’t say anything, remembering the burn of his lips on yours, the weight of his hands clutching your waist, but you can manage a nod, and that’s enough for Wolffe.

He smiles and nods back, eyes darting down to your lips, but you might be imagining that. You don’t know. You’re too distracted by his own lips.

Wolffe squeezes your shoulder one last time, lingering for a second longer than probably necessary before running after his Pack.

You smile at his enraged marching and whisper after him, “See you around, Wolffe.”


	3. stuck

Well, at least you weren’t locked in a closet with him this time. You glare at the sticky substance gluing your hand to Wolffe’s. But it seems mother nature has other ways of keeping you close to him. Tugging your hand back, you only succeed in yanking his arm towards you. Dammit.

You do your best to avoid looking Wolffe in the eyes, hyperfocusing on your glued hands. If you didn’t have feelings for the commander, this would probably be a lot less flustering. But the thing is, you do. And this situation certainly isn’t helping you fight down the butterflies raging a storm in your stomach. You yank your hand again, uselessly. Dammit.

“Colonel, that’s not doing anything.”

You know that, your mind whispers harshly, but what else can you do? Cut your hand off? Restraining your inner thoughts, you force yourself to stop pulling and look Wolffe in the eyes. “Then how are we supposed to get this sap off of our hands?”

Curse this planet and it’s weird plant biology. Curse the ground for being so slimy and causing you to slip and fall. Curse you for trying to catch yourself on a tree, hand gathering the cursed sap on your palm. Curse Wolffe for helping you up, only for your hands to end up in the predicament they’re currently in.

You frown and glance down at your bare connected palms. If you’d both been wearing gloves this might’ve been easier to deal with, but Wolffe’s happened to be torn up and you forgot to put yours on earlier. Oh, what a wonderful situation this was. If only the Pack could see you two now.

Wolffe’s eyebrows narrow and he raises his hand, and yours, closer to his face to examine the substance keeping your hands together. He tries to flex his fingers, but the sap is too strong and they’re still curled around your palm. His nose scrunches and you try to ignore how distracting he looks, but you _can’t_. He’s too handsome.

“We’ll have to find our way back to camp, and hopefully our medic has something to fix this,” Wolffe’s low voice says, breaking you from your thoughts. He looks you in the eyes. “For now, we’ll be stuck together until then.”

Stuck together…

The words shortcircuit your brain.

But…

“What?” You wheeze out.

Wolffe raises an eyebrow at you and slowly reiterates, “We’ll be stuck together until we find our way back to camp, cyare.”

There’s that word again, but you hardly process it, too caught up in the other thing he said.

“But we’re lost!” You blurt. “We got separated from the others and we don’t know where we are!”

Wolffe just stares at you, exasperated. “I know, cyare, but we can’t do anything else until we find our way back.” He jerks your connected hands up between you. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with holding my hand unless we find another way to get the sap off.”

You gulp and lick your lips, a little anxious but filled with butterflies at the thought of holding Wolffe’s hand for an indefinite amount of time. You could live with this.

“No, I d-dont mind holding your hand,” you stammer and quickly say more as Wolffe’s eyebrows raise, surprised. “I mean, I’ll survive being stuck to you for however long the sap lasts.”

You want to play nervously with your hands, but the sap holds firm. You settle for flexing your toes in your boots.

Wolffe doesn’t say another for a long moment, giving you a deep, searching look. It makes your stomach drop, but in an oddly good way. You don’t know what that look means, but you wish he’d always look at you so intensely.

Finally Wolffe nods and begins going North, hand warm as he pulls you along with him. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

You start to follow him, but a pressure in your lower extremities makes you pause, halting Wolffe with you.

He glances at you curiously over his shoulder. “What is it?”

You cross your knees sheepishly together.

“I have to pee.”


	4. shower missions

It was supposed to be a simple mission: get to your quarters, pick up some paperwork and get out. Nothing else to it. A simple kriffing mission that shouldn’t have gone as terribly as it did–-as it is still going.

Wolffe swallows hard as he tries to look anywhere but you.

Why does he keep getting into these situations with you? First the closests, then the sap, and now this? Hasn’t he been through enough?

Gritting his teeth, Wolffe clenches his fists. He so terribly wants to sneak a peek, gaze longer than the brief look he got when he entered your quarters without knocking. He knows he shouldn’t want to, but he does. And against his will (not that he was fighting it that hard) Wolffe lets his mind wander to the scene he walked upon:

The refresher door that was just across the entrance hissing open, you stepping out, skin dried and hair wet. A discarded towel falling to the ground behind you as you walked into your small living space. Wolffe remembers you stretching, eyes closed and still oblivious to his presence as he gave you a surprised once over, eyes drifting over areas of your body he so badly wanted to touch.

But then he came to his senses and coughed, interrupting your yawn and stuttered out that he was here to pick up paperwork.

And this is all his fault, really, Wolffe thinks, pushing away those images. He should have alerted you of his arrival or knocked before entering. You gave him your access code and told him to come right in, but he still should’ve had more courtesy than just entering without any messages to you.

Wolffe bites his inner lip. He can only imagine how you’re feeling right now; however, he can certainly get a good idea by the embarrassed tremor he hears in your voice.

“Wolffe! You’re, uh, earlier than I expected..” you pause. “Although, I realize I told you to come whenever and that is my fault, I’m sorry..”

“No,” Wolffe quickly says, “no, I’m sorry for not giving you a heads up, cyar'ika.” He stares at a mark on your ceiling. “That is my fault, not yours.”

An awkward chuckle fills the air and he hears you shuffle forward a little. “Both our faults then. Now, uh, may you please move aside for a sec? I need to get to my closet, heh…”

“Hm?” Without thinking, Wolffe looks to his left and at the very closet you mentioned. “Oh, yeah, let me just–”

But as he twists to step away, in his nervous rush, Wolffe’s foot catches on his ankle and in one blink, he’s falling towards you. In another blink, he’s pinning you to the ground.

His hands are caging your head with your naked chest pressed to his armored one. His knee is lodged between yours. Wolffe can feel your hands curled under his pits and hooked over his shoulders, but what stands out is your hot breath puffing in his face. You two stare at each other for a long moment, eyes wide and brain static.

Wolffe should move. He knows he should move, but for some reason, his body is slow to react. If this were a battlefield, he’d surely be dead by now.

“Wolffe,” you speak up, voice dangerously close to a moan, and that’s what breaks him from his trance.

Wolffe sucks in a breath and snaps his eyes shut, pushing away from you and stumbling back. “I-I’m sorry, Colonel.” Once he’s standing he turns around and opens his eyes, heading for the door. “I’ll pick up the paperwork later. And I’ll message you before I arrive.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before rushing out, closing the door quickly so no one sees you and heads for the barracks where the 104th resides.

Wolffe keeps a glare on his face, masking the turbulent emotions he feels in the pit of his stomach.

How is he supposed to face you again after what just happened? Maker, help him…

* * *

“So did you pick up the paperwork from your dear colonel, Commander?” Boost asks as soon as he walks in.

“The colonel was busy,” he says, clipped, choosing to ignore the posessive Boost used. “I’ll pick up the paperwork later.”

He marches passed the rest of the Pack, pretending he doesn’t hear their laughter and jibes, and enters the refresher.

Maybe a cold shower will help erase the burning memory of you naked and underneath him.

(It doesn’t.)


	5. what could be

You oftentimes wonder if you should tell Wolffe how you feel. Would it be worth telling him how much you care about him? How deeply your feelings truly go for him?

There are days when you think, _yes, yes it would be worth it_. But then you remember the reality you live in, and realize that’s not something you can have with him.

So you put up a facade, even as Wolffe gives you a smile he seems to give no one else. Even as your heart aches as you wonder about what could be.

It’s all you can do.

But then you get caught up in _situations_ with him - locked closets, glued hands, after shower falls - and your facade breaks a little each time, and the hopeful part of you thinks, _maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for an_ us.

But there isn’t, so you’re left to wonder instead.


End file.
